Another Act of Aggression
by sesshy's-stalker
Summary: Just because Jared imprinted on her, doesn't mean Kim has to like it...
1. When a Conversation Starts

Another Act of Aggression

Summary: Just because Jared imprinted on her doesn't mean Kim has to like it…at first.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight…XP

A/N: I'm not a Twitard. I've never read the series and I don't plan to. I don't even like the films. The only redeeming quality I can find within this fandom are that some of the characters have real potential (usually the underdeveloped, background ones) and because of that…well, here I am, giving them a fighting chance.

_-I felt so sick today, but cured by your noise- _That single line practically inspired this whole story. "Turn It Up" by Robots in Disguise.

Chapter 1: When a Conversation Starts

I gave one last heave into the toilet.

I stood bowed over the bowl for a couple moments just trying to breath. I had sick covering my mouth and hands, tears streaming down my face, snot dripping from my nose, and yet at that particular moment in time I couldn't help but feel absolutely triumphant.

I turned on the faucet and rinsed away all the bile from my face, I got on all fours and cleaned whatever backsplash had landed on the tile floor, and then I threw whatever evidence I could into the toilet and flushed away my shame.I knew it was wrong, I knew you weren't supposed to do those sorts of things to your body, but…but I couldn't help myself. I felt so much better when I did it, the guilt I always felt would stop nagging at me, the desperate ache in my chest would lessen, and I felt in control of my body.

I think that's why I did it, to feel in control of my body because after an entire lifetime of being the 'chubby kid' I was more than ready to get past that. I wasn't my ideal weight or shape yet, still a bit chunky around the middle, but I was getting there, making progress and loving it. I should feel guilty for doing it this way, but I don't. Not in the least. Not even when my mother compliments me on how 'pretty' I'm getting or how 'hard' I must be working. If she knew what I was really doing I don't think she'd be too proud.

That is why I take the upmost precautions I can when I'm doing…this.

I only ever do it at night, if I can help it, when my parents are asleep, or when I'm taking a shower so that the noise can cover up my retching, but sometimes after a big meal I can't stop myself and I go to the most deserted bathroom I can find and turn on the air-ventilator or the blow-dryer. I clean the bathroom thoroughly after one of my 'episodes' and make it inconspicuously normal.

Outside of the bathroom I never acknowledge it, sometimes I even joke about. ("Hey Kimmy. What were you doing?" " Oh, nothing. Just puking in the bathroom." Ha, ha.)

How I became such a good liar I'll never know. No one suspects a thing; I think it's too much to put into their perception of me. I mean seriously, dear sweet Kimmy has an eating disorder? Heaven forbid, nope, not possible, not my Kimmy.

And as long as they don't know, I'll never acknowledge it; I'll pretend it doesn't exist.

Because it doesn't.

* * *

I sat there, bored, struggling to stay awake through H. U.S. History 5th period. And let me tell you, I'm losing this struggle, badly. The only thing keeping me remotely awake was watching the track team practice out in the field. Sitting next to the window definitely has its benefits.

Hot, sweaty boys running around, what's not to like?

I couldn't help but notice one particular boy, stretching out by the sidelines. His soft looking black hair blowing slightly in the breeze, his smooth caramel skin rippling over muscle, his attractive athletic build moving gracefully through his stretches.

That beautiful boyish specimen was none other than one of the most popular boys in school and one of the most influential guys on the rez. I think it's only because he hangs out with Sam Uley and his little cult, for some strange reason he started following him around a couple of weeks ago and since then everybody on the rez looks upon them with begrudging respect and a little bit of fear…or maybe that's just me.

The fact that I had a little crush on him and feared him at the same time made no sense, but it worked.

I couldn't help but sigh as I watched his muscles bulge and stretch. That boy was a god, and I was stuck worshipping him from afar. My life sucked.

I paused in my musings as I noticed his head turn and look in my direction. I froze. Could he see me? Did he know I was watching him? Does he think I'm some creepy stalker now? My shoulders sagged, in relief or disappointment, I'm not too sure, but only because I noticed that he was waving to the person seated in front of me.

He was waving to one of the other "most popular boys in the school and influential guys on the rez." Jared Cree. I couldn't help but pout, he'd only ever hang out with his friends, and I know he'd never pay attention to me. How my foxy man-cake and Jared were friends, I'll never understand.

I shook my head a little and focused on the scene outside the window again, wishing I had to courage to at least talk to him.

I was startled when Jared started talking to me. "You know if you keep staring at him like that he might actually realize you like him," what surprised me wasn't that he knew my secret, but that he was actually talking to me. Jared has never talked to me before, never even noticed I existed, I don't think he's ever even looked at me. ", although if I know him at all, he won't even look your way unless you've got a nice rack." He gave a cruel chuckle.

What a dick. I knew there was a reason I didn't like him.

"But maybe if you're nice to me, I won't tell him…" he turned around to look at me, probably to mock me properly, when he just stopped and stared at me. He gave me this weird wide-eyed stare, as if time had just stopped or I'd grown a new foot out of my forehead. It unnerved me. I tilted my head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

What was wrong with him?

"What's wrong with you?" Well you can't say I don't speak my mind.

That seemed to snap him out of it. His eyes refocused and then he did the most unexpected thing. He held out his hand and introduced himself, all very pleasant (something he's never been to me before), like we were friends or something.

"Hi, I'm Jared." and brightest grin I'd ever seen spread across his face. It was blinding. And yet all I could feel was dread and the only thought going through my head was,

'Please don't tell Paul I like him.'


	2. You Can't Remember the Question

Another Act of Aggression

Summary: Just because Jared imprinted on her doesn't mean Kim has to like it…at first.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight…XP

A/N: To those of you who reviewed and stuff, thank you very much. It really means a lot to me 3 I'll try to update as frequently as I can…but you know sometimes you can't when the inspiration doesn't hit. I've had a lot of problems with that…but I'll really try, ok? I hope you enjoy it!

Oh! And it's been scientifically proven that reviewing my story makes you 75% more awesome, so do it!

Chapter 2: You Can't Remember the Question

I ran down the hallway, pushing past people, and bowling over anything in my way.

The reason for my running? Jared Cree.

Ever since he had looked at me funny during History he hadn't stopped talking to me…or attempting to talk to me. I kept shooting him down and ignoring him for the rest of the period. I mean, it was weird. Why would he be talking to me? And quite honestly I didn't want to talk to him. I'd never really liked him and I don't quite understand his sudden interest in me. Maybe he's playing some sort of mean trick on me? Or a bet with his douche friends? …a sudden onslaught of amnesia? I'm not sure what, but it makes me wary…

So when the bell rang I shot up and bolted. I didn't think he'd follow me, I was sure he wouldn't follow me. Well, that boy is full of surprises. Do you know what he did? He followed me.

No, seriously. He's running down the hallway, following me, as we speak.

"Hey! Wait up! Let me talk to you for a sec!" He's catching up. I made the mistake of looking back and ended up tripping over somebody's foot. I closed my eyes and prepared myself for the impact. It never came.

I opened an eye and looked at the floor, a foot from my face. I hadn't realized I was breathing hard until the floor started getting farther away. "You should really watch your step." Was that blue linoleum tile talking to me?

Oh, it was Jared.

I know this because he was currently holding onto both my arms, keeping me and my face from meeting the floor. It was really uncomfortable dangling over the ground with my arms in his crazy hot vice-grip.

When I was finally upright I noticed Jared still had his hands around my forearms. Oh, and I also noticed that Jared is stupidly tall. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating. I'm only 5'5'' so I'd guestimate that he's 6'3''? But my point still stands!

…and he still hadn't let go.

"Uhm…could you…let go…of me?" Why did that come out as a question? It should've been an order. But he was staring at me all weird again, making me nervous…and I think he just smelled my hair?

Ok, creepy.

A sad, heartbroken look passed over his face and for a moment I felt bad, but it was gone in an instant. He let me go, much more slowly than I would've liked, with that look still on his face. I wouldn't let Jared's weirdness make me feel guilty because, one: I don't like feeling guilty and two: who the hell does he think he is making me feel guilty.

Oh, and I just remembered, he's blackmailing me with my crush on Paul.

'But maybe if you're nice to me, I won't tell him…' I hadn't forgotten that yet.

I looked off to the side and composed myself, chewing on my bottom lip while I thought of what to say to him to make that look on his face change and to leave me alone. I really didn't want him to tell Paul so that meant I'd have to 'be nice' to him, but I also didn't want to have to be 'be nice'( or anything) to him.

"What's your name?" I looked up to him, a little startled. I hadn't expected him to speak. I forgot for a second that he's been doing that a lot recently.

He doesn't even know my name.

For some odd reason this upset me a little. I've gone to school with Jared since the second grade, I've sat near him in almost every class we've had together because of our last names( Connweller, Cree ), and we've lived on the same block since I was born. The fact that I'm a little upset is pretty justifiable, I think.

The next thing I said to him I couldn't have stopped if I tried. "Fuck off, Jared."

I left with all my anger wrapped around me, too pissed to even care about the pathetic look on his face. I didn't even care if he told Paul…I'd care later, but right then I couldn't care less.

Besides, I was late for 6th period.

* * *

I was at my locker after school, shoving books and such into my bag when a shadow fell over me.

I'll give you three guesses as to who it is?

"What do you want Jared?" He gave me this stupid grin in response. I'm really starting to hate him. Then I remembered what happened an hour ago and got mad all over again. I set my face into a pout and slammed the locker door closed. I didn't wait for him to answer the question as I bolted yet again from his presence.

I probably would have made it to the doors if Jared hadn't gotten to me first. And by 'gotten' I mean he practically jumped me and wrapping his arms around me, picking me up. I've never been 'gotten' like this before.

"What the hell! Put me down!"

"Kim! Please, just let me talk to you!" I went limp in his arms. He knew my name? Since when? Since I wasn't struggling anymore he loosened his grip, but didn't let go. And since I wasn't struggling anymore I could feel the intense heat of his body pressed against my back. I-I…I feel a bit uncomfortable.

"If you want to talk, then talk." It came out colder and steadier than I expected.

He was silent for a moment, stunned perhaps by my coldness. "Did you know I had to ask Paul for your name?" So that's how he knew it. "I feel bad for not knowing it…especially when Paul told me you've been in our class for years." The remorse I heard in his voice felt surprisingly real, like it hurt him to know he'd ignored me since forever. Why was he suddenly feeling bad for something like that?

"Why are you doing this?" I've been wanting to know. What's his motive?

He turned me around, so that I was facing him or rather his chest, and held onto my shoulders. The blistering heat from his hands seeped into my skin. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. I tentatively looked up, not sure what I'd find on his face.

I wasn't expecting to see such smoldering eyes looking at me. Nobody has ever looked at me with such an expression. I didn't like it.

"Kim," he said my name so carefully, like it was something precious and he was caressing it with his mouth. "I need…yo-…to talk to you, about something…and I know this won't make any sense, at all, but I want get to know you. If you'll give me the chance?" I really, really wasn't expecting that. And since I wasn't expecting it, I didn't know what to say.

I just stared at his face, so full of earnest hope, and felt a horrible tugging in my chest. I didn't understand any of this. Why was he doing this?

"I-…Jared. I don't know why you're doing this…but, could…could you please stop?" He looked heartbroken again. "And besides, you already know I like Paul."

As soon as I said Paul's name, his grip on my shoulders tightened painfully. The bruising force he used made me yelp in surprise and pain. He released me immediately, as if burned by my skin and looked absolutely, inconsolably remorseful. His eyes were wide with frantic worry.

"Oh my god, Kim! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry. Shit!" He reached for me again, checking to see if he did any serious damage. As soon as he touched me again I whipped out of his grasp.

I didn't want him touching me again. Or ever.

I pushed him away with all my might, not that it did much, and kicked him in the shin. I think I broke my toe, but I didn't care. My indignation allowed me to push past the pain as I turned away from him and limped-ran out of the school doors. I heard his muffled yell through the doors, "Kim!" but I ran away as fast as I could in the direction of my house.

I hadn't really known Jared for more than 2 hours and he'd already hurt me, bruised me, and broken me.


	3. Please Sir, Can I Have Some More

Another Act of Aggression

Summary: Just because Jared imprinted on her doesn't mean Kim has to like it…at first.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight…XP

A/N: … I…am…sorry…Q-Q I really am, I hope you can forgive me for the super long wait on this update, I was having writer's block or something. I'm a fickle person, I have a short attention span and I lose interest easily…I don't think I should be allowed on the internets, it's no good for me (even if it is so very, very fun…), but I'll try to make it up to you…sooo…um, how about the first person to review and give me an idea, will have their idea put into the next chapter (and have credit given where credit is due)? I don't know, does that sound like a good idea?

Chapter 3: Please Sir, Can I Have Some More

I hobbled into the bathroom clumsily.

It would have been a lot easier without the crutches and cast.

That's right, I really had broken my toe…and several other bones in my foot. I'd just spent the last 3 days in the hospital getting them fixed and now I'm stuck at home for 2 weeks to recover.

I am so thankful right now that my parents bought a one-story house.

If anything, staying home alone has been pretty nice so far. I get to sleep in, lay around all day, and pretty much do whatever I want until my parents get home from work.

The only downside? I am lousy at maneuvering around the house with crutches, but then I just take some of the really strong pain meds the hospital gave me and then everything gets better. I'm really liking those pain meds.

The doctors showed me how to use them and told me that I should practice with them, but I'm really starting to doubt the 'genius' behind the invention of crutches. They're clumsy, they hurt my armpits, and I've knocked over more vases and knick-knacks than I can remember.

I'm still trying, but it's not going well.

* * *

I adjusted my leg on the couch as I watched TV, trying to find a more comfortable position. When I looked at the clock on the wall I noticed it was 4 pm. My parents should be getting home in an about 3 hours... and I sighed for what seemed like the millionth time since I've been home on recovery.

It's only been 2 days since I left the hospital and I'm already anxious to get back to school. How pathetic is that?

The house is boring, I can barely move around…and I've gained 5 pounds. I haven't been able to get to the bathroom as efficiently as before (or use it as properly) and my waistline (and possibly my mood) has been suffering for it.

What's more is that…I think I'm starting to get paranoid. Seriously. I feel like somebody is watching me, all the time. I know it's just stupid, maybe even a little narcissistic, but I can't help it.

It's in the windows. I feel like they stare at me, like big, unblinking eyes. It's worse at night, when everything just beyond the windows is dark, blank, and positively viscous. Last night I swore I saw something big and furry, almost bear-like in size, rustling by the furrow of trees near my bedroom window. I've since then taken to using my old night-light…

I really want to go back to school, if only to be away from the forest.

* * *

I heard the doorbell ring just as I was about to drift off, I was startled out of my drowsiness when loud knocking assaulted me right after the door's chime.

Whoever was at the door was going to get a heavy crutch swing to the head.

After stumbling, wobbling, hopping, and ultimately just giving up and crawling to the door, I managed to prop myself up before opening it. And then promptly closing it.

There was more knocking and doorbell ringing.

Followed by another open, close. (I must admit that was rather dumb on my part.)

"Um, Kim, can you open the door…and keep it open, please."

"Go home, Jared!"

It was all shouted through the door and therefore very muffled, but I think it got the point across.

I was about to hobble away back to my couch when he started talking again.

"I brought your homework…from school," well duh, where else from, the morgue? "and the teachers asked to me to lend you my notes and offer help if you needed it." For some stupid reason that all sounded very sweet…stupid and completely ridiculous, but very sweet. To my knowledge Jared and sweet were two concepts that didn't coexist.

"Did they really?" The door was open now.

"No, not really." He said with the cheekiest grin. "They did ask me to bring you the work, but I volunteered for the rest." He was leaning against my doorframe, gazing down at me, still looking cheeky.

"And why would you do that?"

"I just wanted to apologize and make it up to you," he glanced down at my caste covered foot, and he looked so remarkably sad for a second I thought he might actually cry or something. I was never good at consoling people, being emotional just wasn't wired into me I guess, so I had no idea what to do. ", and I figured that it would probably take a lot of groveling on my part. I don't even know where to start, but be sure that I will make it up to you."

"Uh…," he looked so honest and hopeful I wasn't entirely sure what to say. Was he being nice out of guilt…or was he really just being earnest. "You don't have to do that, you know. It's not like it was your fault. I mean, I'm the one that kicked you…" and broke my foot against your shin.

"Yeah, that may be, but I'm the one that did that. However much I didn't want to." He lifted the sleeves of my t-shirt and revealed the hand-shaped bruises he'd made on my shoulders. They'd calmed down from the angry redish-purple they were and turned into an ugly greenish-purple in the last week, but they hadn't faded. Not one bit.

To be honest I'd forgotten about that.

"Oh." I was a bit surprised about seeing them, my arms and pits had hurt so much from using the crutches this week I hadn't noticed the pain from the bruises.

For some reason seeing them, and having Jared apologize for causing them didn't make me feel angry, but then again I wasn't feeling much of anything. My insides were completely cold as I stared at the imprint of Jared's hands on my skin.

I don't know why, but at that moment those markings felt significant. Like they were indicative of something I didn't fully understand.

I didn't fully understand it, and I didn't fully like it.

My chest felt stiff and frozen, making it hard to breathe, and I could feel my hands shaking. I looked up to Jared trying to understand what this was, what I was feeling, but I only found his warm, solid eyes staring at me with an utmost certainty that left me feeling just as unnerved as the bruises had. I couldn't take him looking at me like that.

I quickly closed the door and leaned against it, willing Jared to leave by sheer wishing hope. I prayed harder than I'd ever prayed for him to leave, for his eyes to stop looking at me like that, because I knew that despite the door between us he was still out there staring at me with that same intensity. And I could still feel him, his smoldering presence burning just outside my door, only a couple feet (if not inches) away from me.

I could have almost sworn I felt him press both his hands against the door, as if trying to reach through it…as if trying to touch me through my wooden barrier. But it was then that I felt the violent smack of his fist against the door. I felt my heart stop. The reverberation that followed was loud and deafening...vibrating cold fear though my entire body. He whispered my name so low and desperate against the door I almost thought I'd imagined it.

And I waited for more...for more rage, for more fear, for more sound.

But the only thing I heard was a muffled shuffling and the only thing I saw were sheets of paper slip through the mail-slot. My homework. I heard more shuffling and then…nothing.

The heat was gone. Jared was gone.

I slumped to the floor exhausted, absolutely spent, just feeling the remnants of what had transpired only moments ago. I still didn't fully understand what it was that I was feeling or what it was that had happened, but whatever it was it left me totally drained. It was only then that I noticed something.

I'd ripped my homework.

And I was crying.


End file.
